[saligaonet] Bells of St. Anne

[Daniel F. De Souza]

THE BELLS OF ST ANNE.   Now from their turrets gray and old, Where call the swallow in the gloom, The tender bell of eventide Float out across the night’s perfume; The music from their throbbing throats Stirs the shadows like a flame, And all the drowsing world grows glad With love for holy one they name; "Saint Anne!" their mellow voices cry: " Saint Anne!"" The Good Saint Anne"" ""Saint Anne!"   The far dim stretch of meadow grass Is all a- glimmer with the dew; Its shining drops fall as tears When slips the evening zephyr through. From out some mesh of soft brown blades, A last, late thrush pipes low and sweet; And once again the faithful bells Their sacred melody repeat: " Saint Anne" they murmur in reply: "Saint Anne!"—" The Good Saint Anne!" " Saint Anne!"   Along the stream’s winding length The tide is running fleet and white; It drowns the reeds along the course, And hides the rocky bar from sight; Vague sadness freights the misty air; Night settles like a thing of woe; And in their watch-tower high and still The bells are swaying soft and slow: " Saint Anne!"—the faint notes break and die; " Saint Anne!" " The Good Saint Anne!" " Saint Anne!’’…. Anonymous. Compiled by Fr. Nascimento Mascarehnas, Vasco da Gama 1-08-2004 A Happy Feast of St. Anne to one and all.